


Not Brand New

by mariamuses



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Baby, F/M, Fluffy Angst, Nessian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamuses/pseuds/mariamuses
Summary: Nesta and Cassian find out they can’t get pregnant.





	Not Brand New

_“I’m really sorry, but I don’t think your chances of ever being with child are high. The tests results were—“_

Nesta had stopped hearing anything by then. It was just muffled voices, hushed and quick exchanges of words; Cassian kneeling in front of her, taking her face between his hands, trying to bring her back, wiping the tears from her face, even as they formed in his.

THREE MONTHS LATER

After the news, Cassian and Nesta had left for the cabin and stayed there a week, treating the wound in their marriage before it festered and became untreatable.

It was the first time that cabin hadn’t been used for sex since Rhys and Feyre mated.

When they arrived, Nesta was a shell: no silver lining her eyes anymore, her face void of any emotion. She wouldn’t even move from the chair Cassian first had sat her in when they arrived. But then, as the ever-patient male he is, Cassian bathed her, dressed her, and sat her, propped up on the headboard of the bed. Then he settled in front of her, draping one leg over each of his, pulling her so close she was almost on his lap; took her head between his hands and started singing.

He sang of hurt, shame, guilt… but then he sang of hope, of the future, of  _them._

And Nesta came back. She apologized over and over again, but every time Cassian shut her up with a kiss and a new explanation of why it wasn’t her fault. He knew when he married her she was special; and if that meant he had to work harder for them to work, he would. And he did. That week was filled with cooking, bathing, braiding, painting (they stole some of Feyre’s paint and drew more stick figures around the house) and most of all, talking.

They talked about everything: the war, their friends, project and plans, and of course, their options.

Because of the peace, adoption was getting harder and harder everyday that passed. Less parents were dying in combat and the general poverty of the population had been addressed so efficiently in the Night Court it wasn’t even a major cause of death anymore.

And they couldn’t just cut the line in the other courts and get a child when other families wanted them…

And one of the main struggles they had was the uncertainty of how it would feel to have a kid that wasn’t you own, that wasn’t newborn. One that wasn’t brand new.

Anyway, they wanted to try.

But they were stuck. They  _had_  been stuck.

 _Until now_.

When the war was over, Rhysand crafted a decree, where every Illyrian camp would have to pass a revision, making sure the females were trained properly, treated like people and not possession.

That had been fifty years ago, and there was only one camp left to check out. It was located on the narrow valley between the biggest mountains of the Night Court territory, and the weather made it the hardest to visit any time of the year.

Nesta had gladly taken the challenge, and when Cassian had offered to go with her, she had refused, claiming it would be good for her morale to grind some Illyrian egos before dinner. He had just kissed her goodbye, wishing her luck and trusting her blindly to do the right thing.

But to her surprise, she had found a cemetery. Thousands of bones littering the floor, from each size, shape and form.

Needless to say, she was left speechless, paralyzed by the terror.

 _This can’t be right. I must have winnowed incorrectly, missed the camp by a few miles—_ thought Nesta.

And then she heard it.

A high-pitched cry, like that of a baby.

_Now I’m hallucinating, great._

But she saw it. A bump in all the bones, wrapped in what seemed like a blanket. And she ran for it.

When she got there, she picked the creature in her arms and peaked inside the cocoon, meeting a pair of big, rounded hazel eyes. The baby was Illyrian, judging by the lumps on her back, and a girl, judging by the long-ish hair and earrings.

She started rocking the bundle in her arms, trying to calm her down and analyzing the situation.

The girl wasn’t cold, so she couldn’t have been there for more than thirty minutes. That meant that someone was close, maybe even the camp. So, Nesta started walking until she saw smoke rise in the air, and the roofs of a hundred tiny houses appeared as she followed her path into the camp.

Now she was standing on the foyer of her house, the one she shared with Cassian; too nervous to go in but too excited to turn away, holding the baby on her arms.

Nesta looked up to the sky, which was turning pink, giving way to night; took a deep breath in and stepped inside.

She could hear Cassian humming while he cooked dinner, the smell of meat and vegetables filling the air. When she got to the kitchen, Nesta rapped her knuckles against the doorframe and waited for Cassian to turn around.

“Hello sweetheart, how was—” he started saying, but his voice gave out midsentence when he saw the bundle in her arms.

“Surprise?”, whispered Nesta, unsure of what else to say and what his reaction was going to be like.

Eyes wide open, he started closing the space between them.

“Nes, please tell that’s not what I think it is; tell me you didn’t steal a baby…”

“I might have—but it’s not what it looks like! I had to! I can explain, I promise”, she swore with a serious face.

And she did.

She told him how she had arrived at the bone cemetery and found the little creature; how she got to camp and demanded an explanation; the hurt she had felt when they said that their monthly sacrifice always consisted of people and the realization that all the bones were of sacrificed illyrians; how they were the only Illyrian camp to do so still, while all the others just burned food or tokens to the gods. She had tried to understand the process of selection for the ritual, trying to rationalize the monstrosity they committed every month, but it seemed random, so she had forbidden it. She also tried to get the baby’s parents to talk to her, but they told her both were the previous months sacrifices, because they had broken the main camp rule: having a child. She asked if there was any living relative through her teeth, not wanting the girl to grow up in a horrible place like that but putting her sense of duty first.

The relief when no one showed up to take her.

The ultimatum to stop those crazy rituals.

How no one was willing to stop.

The desolation she left behind after wiping out the camp with her new powers.

The guilt. The terrible guilt she felt for doing it.

“Shhh, Nesta”, hushed her Cassian, pulling her into an embrace but being careful with the treasure in her arms. “You did amazing. Do not feel guilty. Nothing—you hear me—nothing, would’ve changed those people. I wished you would have summoned me, so I could share the burden with you, but no one is going to blame you. It needed to be done, okay?” he said, grabbing her chin with gentleness and looking deep into her eyes.

Nesta nodded and wiped the tears that had begun forming in her eyes.

“Now… I think you need to introduce me to someone?”, tentatively asked Cassian, a smile spreading to his face, now that his wife was back home, safe and sound, with the future in her arms.

Nesta smirked and handed him the little girl.

“Cassian, meet Alyssa. She’s—”

“She’s  _Illyrian?_ ” he said, mouth agape from the surprise.

“Well you know, she was in an Illyrian camp so…”, sassed Nesta.

“I know, but some irrational part of me thought… that maybe her parents weren’t both Illyrian and that’s the reason they…” tried to explain Cassian, his eyes still trained on the baby he was holding.

“Nope. Full illyrian, like his new daddy.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with her? No crooked wings? No demonic possession? Nothing?”

“Nothing. She’s a completely healthy babe. I took her to see Madja before I came here because I didn’t want to set my hopes high again… But she’s perfect Cassian, and she’s ours”, exhaled Nesta, a weight lifting of her shoulders.

“And you’re okay with this? Even if she’s not ours, not brand new?” asked Cassian, wanting to make sure as always that they both saw eye to eye, even if his eyes had begun to water from the emotion.

“ _Yes._ It turns out, shiny new things are overrated—that’s why I married an old guy like you”, she joked, laughter filling her eyes.

“HEY! Don’t listen to your momma, baby girl. I’m not old, I’m  _vintage_ ”, cooed Cassian.

The Commander of the Night Court armies  _cooed._

And Nesta couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Look guys, I’m sorry for the angst, it was necessary… But read until the end! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this because it was so fun to write and I adore Nessian so much it physically hurts. Also, the gif is just how I imagine the illyrians would look holding their babies and bye I’m deceased.


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